The Six Month Secret of Severus Snape
by Dust Bunny Assassin
Summary: During his fifth year at Hogwarts, Severus Snape is presented with a dilemma. A chance at revenge against James Potter comes from an unlikely source. Will Snape risk everything to get the thing he most desires?
1. On the Hogwarts Express

Chapter 1: On the Hogwarts Express  
  
"Snape!"  
  
Severus Snape turned to the voice. He looked down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express and saw his fellow Slytherin Evan Rosier leaning out of the last compartment. Ignoring the looks coming at him from the compartments he passed, Severus dragged his trunk down the corridor to his friend.  
  
"You almost missed it - again," Rosier teased as Severus manhandled his trunk onto the rack above an empty seat. He flung himself into the seat across from Rosier.  
  
"Bloody Muggles. You can barely get through London these days," Severus growled as he pulled that morning's _Daily Prophet_ out of the pocket of his robes. "Avery, Burke," Severus said grimly, acknowledging the other two Slytherins in the compartment. They returned equally brusque greetings.  
  
"Where's Brenda?" Stephen Avery asked Brian Burke, who sat opposite him.  
  
"Don't know," Burke replied in tones that also said 'don't care.' He didn't bother looking up from his _Quidditch Quarterly_. Avery looked a little miffed at Burke's disinterest and turned his attention elsewhere.  
  
"So, Snape, how was your summer?"  
  
"Fine," Severus replied slowly, not looking up from his newspaper.  
  
"Did you go to your mother's family in Edinburgh this year?"  
  
Severus groaned inwardly, wishing Avery would get the hint he wasn't in the mood for chit chat. "No," he replied stiffly. Severus could feel the other boy's eyes on him for a second or two before shifting his attention to the fourth occupant of the compartment.  
  
"So, I guess Horrell's prefect, then?" Avery asked Rosier. Severus suppressed a laugh. _Well done, Avery. Not even out of the station yet_, he thought to himself as he peeked over the top of his newspaper to check the reaction of his friend to the reminder that he hadn't been made prefect. Severus hid his smirk at the icy, malicious glare Rosier cast at their classmate. To Avery's credit, he didn't flinch nearly as quickly as Severus thought he would have. Finally, Avery looked away, blushing, and turned his attention back to the magazine on his lap. The four boys then sat, silently, each preoccupied with his own concerns. A few seconds later, accompanied by the sound of compartment doors slamming and final arrivals greeting friends and classmates, the Hogwarts Express pulled away from Platform 9 ¾. Fifth year had officially begun.  
  
After a few minutes, Severus felt Rosier's eyes on him. He looked up over the top of his newspaper again. He saw his friend silently mouth the name 'Flint-Gore' and raise his eyebrows in inquiry. Severus shrugged in reply, a bored scowl on his face.  
  
As though reading their minds, Avery continued his previous discussion. "I wonder who the other new prefect is? I didn't see any of the girls on the platform," he mused loudly. Burke continued to ignore them all, apparently oblivious to anything other than 'QQ tests the new Nimbus,' and 'Up close and personal with the Wimbourne Wonder.'  
  
"What did you do this summer, Burke?" Rosier asked. The boy replied without raising his large blue eyes from his magazine.  
  
"Worked for my dad."  
  
Burke senior was the publisher of _Quidditch Quarterly_ and its sister publication, _Hoopla!_, a weekly created, Severus was convinced, for absolute illiterates.  
  
"What did you do?" Severus asked, looking up from his newspaper to lend his support for Rosier's efforts to subvert Avery's current prefect obsession.  
  
"Tested brooms," Burke replied, finally looking up. He flipped through his magazine, folded it open, carefully tossed it to Rosier, and leaned back into his seat,  
crossing his hands on his lap and stretching out his long legs.  
  
"Really! That must have been fun," Avery gushed. Severus sneered at him. _Down, boy. Why don't you just jump into his lap?_  
  
Burke answered Avery in detached tones. "Not really. Flying was okay; writing's boring."  
  
Severus saw Rosier glance up to the top of the page he was reading, startled. "You wrote this!" Severus snorted at the admiration in Rosier's voice. "You're only fifteen!"  
  
Burke grunted in reply and gave a small shrug as he turned his attention to the view through the window.  
  
"Do you want this?" Severus asked Burke, holding out his newspaper.  
  
"Sure, if you're done." Burke took the _Prophet_ from Severus' outstretched hand and turned to the sports section on the back page. Smirking a little, Severus opened his satchel and removed _Fungi of Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam - Their Use in Poisons and Antidotes_. He'd purchased the book at Flourish and Blotts that morning; waiting twenty minutes in the queue to pay for it had caused him to almost miss the Hogwarts Express, but Severus had known as soon as he'd seen it that he had to have it.  
  
Rosier closed the Quidditch magazine and tossed it onto the empty seat between him and Avery. "New book?" he asked Severus.  
  
"Umm hmm."  
  
"What is it?" Severus showed him the front cover. "Mushrooms. Fascinating," Rosier said, cocking an eyebrow slightly at his friend.  
  
"I fully expect it will be," Severus replied in astringent tones as he reopened the book and settled back in his seat.  
  
"Anyone for a game of Exploding Snap?" Avery asked the other three boys.  
  
"No," Rosier answered in a voice that implied he considered himself qualified to speak for the two other boys as he continued reading the back cover of Severus' thick book.  
  
"Chess, Burke?" Avery asked, apparently unwilling to leave his classmates to their reading.  
  
"Sure," Burke replied dully as he dropped the _Prophet_ onto the empty seat next to him. "Trade, Rosier," he continued. After Burke retrieved his box of chess pieces from his trunk, the two boys switched seats and Avery removed his chess board and pieces from his satchel.  
  
While Burke and Avery were distracted setting up the chess board, Rosier leaned over casually towards Severus. "Meet me outside in a minute."  
  
Startled, Severus looked up from his book as Rosier stood to leave the compartment. Severus nodded very slightly in acknowledgement. As Rosier slid the compartment door closed behind him, Severus thought, _this doesn't sound good_.  
  
After what he judged to be about a minute, Severus nonchalantly placed his book on the empty seat next to him and left the compartment, halting in the doorway to watch one of Burke's knights savagely take one of Avery's pawns. He smiled as the knight's steed gave the white pawn a parting kick to the head at the edge of the board. Severus turned and almost bumped into a boy and girl walking down the corridor from the front of the train. The thin, brown-haired boy opened his mouth to protest Severus' clumsiness, then, seeing his face, shut his mouth with a snap.  
  
"Watch where you're going, Lupin," Severus snarled at the boy. Lupin's companion looked up and Severus was caught in the startling green gaze of Lily Evans.  
  
"Watch out, yourself, Snape," the girl said in sharp tones that belied her smile. Severus took a step back as her disdainful eyes travelled from his dusty robes to his scowling face to his greasy curtain of black hair.  
  
_Loathsome Mudblood know-it-all_, he thought to himself, recoiling from contact with the girl. As the pair turned to continue down the corridor, Severus noticed the small flash of red and gold on the front of Remus Lupin's black school robes. _Well, that's a poke in the eye for Potter, that's for sure_, he thought with malignant glee. A few seconds later he heard Rosier behind him.  
  
"Was that Lupin and Evans?"  
  
"You're not going to believe who the new Gryffindor prefects are," Severus replied with a smirk.  
  
"You sound like Avery," Rosier said in slightly mocking tones.  
  
"Very funny."  
  
"Well, everyone knows it's Evans and Potter."  
  
"Guess again; Evans and _Lupin_."  
  
Severus was gratified by Rosier's shocked expression and his short, sharp laugh. "Well, that proves it. Bumblebore's gone completely round the twist." Rosier paused. "Still, better than Perfect Potter as prefect. He probably chose Lupin because if he made Potter a prefect, he'd have to make Black his partner."  
  
"In this as in all things," Severus replied with a leer. The two boys chuckled at the innuendo. "Though, I'm guessing you didn't drag me out here to discuss prefects."  
  
"No, I didn't," Rosier replied as he finished laughing. His expression became serious. "Did Avery write to you this summer?"  
  
"No. A blissful respite."  
  
"Lucky you. He pestered me all summer, weekly sometimes. He's getting desperate," Rosier said, irritated. Severus snorted and turned to look out the window to the view of London's northern suburbs flashing by.  
  
"It will never happen. Lestrange will never take him in," Severus growled as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
"I know." Rosier turned to join him at the window. The two boys stood in silence, their sullen expressions in discord with the pleasant, sunny Muggle back yards and parks that made up the view outside. "But next year ...." Rosier continued a few moments later. Severus turned to his friend.  
  
"Rosier, Avery will never be one of us. Not if my opinion counts for anything." Severus turned back to the window, a deep scowl on his face. _Every bloody year the same bloody thing. At least the prat has stopped pestering me_.   
  
After another pause, Rosier continued, his voice low. "Did you get to the Manor this summer?"  
  
Severus waited for a group of young Ravenclaw girls to pass behind them before answering. "No. My father was called, but my presence was not required," Severus replied coldly, his scowl deepening dramatically. _Leave it, Rosier_, he thought grimly. He shuddered and rubbed his upper arms quickly. Feeling his friend's eyes on him, Severus turned back to him and looked down to see the not-quite concealed envy that habitually appeared on Rosier's face whenever the Malfoys came up in conversation. _If you only knew_, Severus thought to himself.  
  
Just then, Severus heard a loud rattle. He looked up to see the witch with the food trolley appear at the end of the corridor. Severus turned and re-entered their compartment. Rosier followed, leaving the door open.  
  
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" the plump middle-aged witch asked as she reached their door. Severus ignored her as Avery jumped up to buy a stack of Cauldron Cakes and sweets.  
  
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully and, for the most part, silently, other than Avery's vocal distress at losing three straight games of chess to Burke. The hours passed slowly; the day grew darker as the surrounding countryside grew wilder. Eventually, the train pulled into Hogsmeade station.  
  
As the students piled out of the train onto the platform, Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, called over their heads, "Firs' years this way! Firs' years over 'ere!"  
  
Severus followed his three classmates to a carriage that would take them the mile or so to the castle. As always, Rosier shivered slightly at the sight of the carriages. On their first trip to Hogwarts four years before, Rosier had informed Severus that the carriages, which appeared to move by magic, were actually pulled by Thestrals: hideous, winged, horse-like creatures that were visible only to people who had witnessed a death. Over the years, Rosier had adamantly refused to tell Severus why he was able to see them.  
  
As their carriage drew up to the castle, Severus felt a small knot of tension form in his stomach. When he stepped down, he looked around the crowd of students climbing the steps to the great oak doors. He was relieved to see, through the doorway to the Entrance Hall, that James Potter and his Gryffindor cronies were already inside, making their way to the Great Hall. Knowing where they were, Severus could avoid them. The knot in his stomach eased somewhat as the four Slytherins climbed the stairs to the oak doors that led to the castle's Entrance Hall.  
  
Severus, Avery and Rosier followed Burke as the larger boy made his way like an ice-breaker through the crowd of students greeting friends in the Entrance Hall. The four boys followed a group of chattering third year girls to the Slytherin table. Severus was annoyed when Avery took the seat between him and Rosier. _Wonderful. I get to listen to him talk my ear off through the entire Feast_. Burke left them to sit with some of his Quidditch team-mates at the far end of the table. Severus stared into space, ignoring the students milling around, finding places at the four tables that ran the length of the Great Hall. A minute later, to his right, Severus heard the Great Hall doors slam shut with a resonant boom. The first-years would be arriving soon.  
  
"Pleasant trip across the lake tonight," Avery said on his left. "Not like ours."  
  
_Shut up, Avery_, Severus thought sourly. He kept quiet, though.  
  
"Merlin, I wish they'd hurry up, I'm starving," Avery moaned to Rosier.  
  
"Shut up, Avery. You've never starved a day in your life. Probably do you some good, though," Rosier growled sharply back at him. Avery's pouting was almost palpable, but Severus had no sympathy for him. Avery should know by now not to be flippant around Rosier about any subject touching on poverty.  
  
Severus watched as Professor Ames, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Head of Slytherin House, approached the staff table carrying a three-legged stool in one hand and the filthy, battered old Sorting Hat in the other. She placed the stool on the low dais at the front of the Hall and unceremoniously dropped the hat on top of it. Without a backward glance, the short, grey-haired witch turned and took her seat at the left hand of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.  
  
_The great man himself_, Severus thought caustically, watching the old wizard talk to Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Severus was roused out of his ponderings by the long, loud groan of opening doors. He turned to see the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, leading the new first-years down the centre of the Great Hall. The Sorting was about to begin.  
  
"Is it just me, or do they get smaller every year?" Avery mused aloud.  
  
"It's you, Avery. In fact, it's been proven that Hogwarts first-years get _bigger_ every year," Rosier replied in mock serious tones.  
  
Severus knew that Avery was getting on Rosier's nerves, now. He knew that his friend was very bitter about not being made prefect, and Avery was bearing the brunt of Rosier's mood. He hoped his friend wasn't planning on prolonging the unprovoked attacks on everyone around him for long. It was getting damned tedious.  
As Severus watched Professor McGonagall unroll a parchment with the names of the students to be Sorted, he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; he was being watched. He shuddered slightly and looked across the Hall, searching for the person responsible. _Better not be that bastard, Potter, or any of his idiot friends_. As his eyes swept across the Gryffindor table, he only saw people watching the Sorting or talking among themselves.  
  
His attention was pulled back to the Slytherin table by the sound of muted applause around him. Slytherin House had, apparently, just received its first new member. Though his hands joined in mechanically, Severus' eyes continued to drift along the Gryffindor table. Through the intervening Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, he caught sight of the backs of two black-haired heads. As he saw one lean over to the other, he sneered disdainfully. _I wonder_, he thought, then shook the idea out of his mind. While he'd never seen Potter, self-proclaimed Quidditch god, pay particular attention to any girl, Black was one of the most notorious skirt chasers at Hogwarts. _If any of them are bent, it's Lupin_, he thought idly, glancing over to the pale boy sitting opposite Potter. Surrounding applause once again imposed itself on Severus' thoughts. He turned his attention back to the Sorting.  
  
Over the course of the evening, Slytherin House gained twelve new members, more than any other House that year. Then the Feast proper began. As usual, Severus had little appetite and listlessly pushed food around his plate while half-listening to the conversations around him. Not soon enough for him, the golden plates were cleared and Severus turned his attention to the staff table. The Headmaster stood to welcome them and announce notices.  
  
_No magic in the corridors, stay out of the Forest, blah, blah, blah_. Severus tuned out the speech after a few seconds and resumed his scrutiny of the Gryffindor table. _Mudbloods, Muggle-lovers and mental cases_, he thought to himself with a sneer. A minute later the Headmaster sent them on their way.  
  
Severus was just about to leave for the Slytherin common room with Rosier and Avery when Rabastan Lestrange, a Slytherin seventh-year, approached with a group of his classmates.  
  
"Snape, I'd like to see you after lessons tomorrow afternoon. We can use Keech's room," Lestrange said in a slightly imperious manner as he walked past, barely breaking his stride as he spoke.  
  
"Certainly," Severus replied smoothly, hiding his surprise as he watched the young man sweep out of the Great Hall with his fellow seventh-years following in his wake.  
  
"What was that about?" Severus turned. Avery's expression was of badly-concealed surprise. Rosier's was of badly-concealed jealousy. Severus shrugged.  
  
"I'll find out tomorrow, I guess."  
  
Rosier's expression didn't change as the three boys headed out into the Entrance Hall. When the three fifth-years arrived at the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room, Severus and Avery glanced at Rosier, who'd been seated at dinner next to one of the sixth-year prefects.  
  
"Queerditch Marsh," Rosier grumbled. The door slid open. Severus noticed that Rosier's expression was still set on 'angry and jealous best friend.' He gave a quiet snort. _If he's going to be like that, he can bloody well find himself a new friend_. The three boys crossed the long, low-ceilinged common room to an apparently blank section of stone wall. Avery, who was in the lead, turned to Severus and Rosier.  
  
"Umm, password?" The three glanced back and forth at one another.  
  
"We have to wait for Burke," Rosier said sullenly.  
  
"Oh, right." Avery appeared to not notice Rosier's sour mood.  
  
"Any ideas?" Severus asked, looking away from the others to see if Burke was in the common room.  
  
"We need a theme," Avery suggested.  
  
"Poisonous fungi," Severus said distractedly, thinking of his new book. He heard Rosier make a dismissive sound. He turned to see a sardonic look on his friend's face.  
  
"Burke'd never get back in again. You know what he's like with names." Rosier held up his hands as if he were holding something in each and examining them. He pointedly looked at one hand. "Rock." He pointedly looked at his other hand. "Plant." He dropped his hands. "Anything beyond that and he's lost."  
  
"Hexes," Avery suggested.  
  
"Too dangerous," Severus replied in a bored voice, turning his back to them again. He saw Burke approaching from the staircase to the prefects' rooms. Slytherin prefects had private rooms below the common room.  
  
"Sorry. Just had to ask Keech when first practice is," Burke mumbled as he approached. "So, what's the password?"  
  
"Haven't decided yet," Severus replied.  
  
"Avery thinks we need a _theme_," Rosier drawled.  
  
"Good idea." Burke paused for a second or two. He looked down to each of his three roommates in turn, a look of concentration on his face. "How about magical sites - place names, you know?" The other three looked at each other and nodded agreement. "Okay, names of magical sites," Burke continued. "What first?"  
  
"Tintagel," Avery blurted out.  
  
"Too obvious," Rosier replied sharply. "And don't say Stonehenge," he continued, glaring at Avery.  
  
"Who cares; it's easy to remember," Severus replied, irritated. _Just pick a damned name!_ Burke looked like he agreed. Despite Rosier's misgivings, the name was said simultaneously by all four boys, setting the password for their dormitory. The door clicked open and they entered.  
  
Rosier flopped onto his bed. "Three years with no Horrell," he sighed contentedly.  
  
"Yeah, the only benefit of him making prefect," Burke replied as he sat at the end of his bed and kicked off his shoes at Avery.  
  
"Hey!" the boy shouted back with a grin. "Pity we won't be able to pinch his sweets anymore, though. His mum makes the best ginger biscuits." He opened his trunk and rummaged around for his pyjamas.  
  
Severus let the voices of his dorm-mates flow around him unheeded as he unpacked his books and carefully stacked them on his bedside table. When everything was ready for the next day's lessons, he changed into his nightshirt and crawled into his four-poster bed. He carefully shut the green velvet curtains on Avery and Rosier's argument over who got to use the fifth bookcase in their room, lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes.  
  
All in all, it hadn't been a bad day. He'd managed to make it through the entire train trip, the Feast, and to the Slytherin common room with no run-ins with Potter and his idiot pals. A first. Then his mind moved on to more pleasant matters.  
  
_I wonder what Lestrange wants to talk to me about_, was his last thought as he slipped quickly into sleep, a thin smile on his face.  
  



	2. Another year of misery

Chapter II: Another year of misery  
  
"Come on, Avery, we're going to be late!" Rosier yelled from the door of their dormitory the next morning.  
  
"Just a second, okay? I can't find a quill."  
  
Severus and Rosier watched as Avery tore his trunk apart. After another ten seconds or so, the boy stood up quickly, flourishing his newly-found quill in triumph. His face fell a little on seeing the expressions on his dorm-mates' faces.  
  
Two minutes later, the three boys entered the Great Hall, which was filled with excited, chattering students. As they sat at the Slytherin table, Horrell passed along a sheaf of timetables. Avery picked out his own, then passed them along.  
  
_Please, please, no ... oh damn it_, Severus thought to himself as he examined his timetable. The Slytherins had both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors again, for the fifth year in a row. Severus heard Avery groan.  
  
"I don't believe it."  
  
"What?" Rosier asked as he spooned sugar onto his porridge.  
  
"Guess," Severus replied darkly. Rosier glanced down at the parchment in Severus' hand and swore vehemently.  
  
"It's our OWL year! Why can't someone else get stuck with those idiots for once! We've done our share!" Rosier was almost wailing at this point. Around the Slytherin table, heads turned to face them. Rosier blushed almost to the same shade as his spots. "I can't believe we have Defence with Black and Potter again," he hissed quietly as he leaned across the table. "Another year of 'be serious,' 'no, I'm Sirius.' God, I think I'm going to be sick." Rosier toyed with his breakfast, his face a study in misery.  
  
Severus looked down at the now-cold toast on his plate. He pushed it away, untouched. For a few minutes, he ignored the conversation swirling around him as Avery and Veronica Flint-Gore, the other fifth-year prefect, debated which of the Gryffindors was most annoying. The knot in his stomach from the evening before had returned and had been so kind as to bring a few friends with it.  
  
_That absolute ... bitch, McGonagall, sticking us with her moron Gryffindors again - loathsome old crone_. He could feel a twisted scowl cross his face and didn't care who saw it.  
  
"Why does it always have to be us? That's what I want to know," Rosier's angry voice penetrated the veil of Severus' anger.  
  
"At least Professor Ames attempts to keep them under control. Brax, though ..." Avery trailed off as he reached for a plate of bacon.  
  
Professor Brax, the Potions teacher, was indulgent by nature and made no effort to curb the outlandish behaviour of the Gryffindors. Severus suspected that the man secretly found them amusing. _What can you expect from a Hufflepuff_, he thought sourly.  
  
So, after breakfast, accompanied by Rosier and Avery, Severus plodded out to his Potions lesson with a sense of dread. Then, as the three boys crossed the Entrance Hall on their way to the dungeons, Severus heard an entirely too familiar voice behind him.  
  
"Hey, Snivellus! Have a good summer?" The three Slytherins turned as one, and saw James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew following them out of the Great Hall. Severus saw out of the corner of his eye a group of young Hufflepuffs cast a frightened glance at the scene and scurry off towards the marble staircase.  
  
_Potter and Black, together again. Hurrah_, Severus thought bitterly and wondered how many House points he'd lose if he Stunned them both right there in the Entrance Hall. He sneered and turned away.  
  
"Hey! I'm talking to you, Snape," Potter continued. The three Slytherins continued towards the dungeons. "I always knew you were a slimy little wanker, Snivelly. I guess you're a coward, too." Severus heard Black's strange, animalistic laugh.  
  
_That's it!_ Severus grabbed his wand out of his pocket and turned back, a snarl on his face.  
  
"_Stupefy_!" he yelled at Potter. The red light of the spell shot past Potter's head, missing him by a fraction of an inch. It flew over the heads of three Gryffindor girls coming up behind them, through the Great Hall doors, and blasted the wall above the Slytherin table, eliciting shrieks from a group of first and second-years still eating their breakfasts.  
  
_Oh. Shite._  
  
"Great shot, Snivelly!" Black bellowed as Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew laughed uproariously. Severus saw Professor Ames jump up from the staff table and storm up the centre aisle of the Great Hall, doing a very good imitation of a small, thin, grey wolverine. Potter and his gang headed off for the dungeons at top speed.  
  
"Potter, you coward!" Rosier called after their retreating backs.  
  
"Retaliators always get the penalty call, Snape. Better luck next time, though," the Gryffindor Chaser Nina Bottle said, laughing, as she and the other Gryffindor girls followed their classmates towards the dungeons.  
  
_Shut up, you repulsive foreign cow_, Severus thought angrily as Professor Ames approached. Avery gave a little squeak and stepped behind Rosier.  
  
Ames pointed a finger at Rosier, then Avery.  
  
"Potions. Now." The two boys didn't need telling twice. Severus felt his heart drop into one leg and his stomach drop into the other as his Head of House glared up at him with her eerie, violet-coloured eyes.  
  
"Answers, Snape," she said quietly in the tightly-controlled, no-nonsense tones that Severus thought of as her 'I was an Auror for forty years, so don't mess with me, boy' voice. Severus didn't want to be cowed by her. _For heaven's sake, I should not be intimidated by this insane midget anymore_. However, in reality, he was still a little frightened of his Head of House even though, at almost sixteen, Severus towered over her. He hated himself for sounding almost contrite when he answered.  
  
"Potter provoked me, Professor." Severus had to admit it would be a feeble excuse even if she hadn't heard it about a thousand times already. Her lips pursed together as her 'Grow the hell up, you nauseating adolescent' look crossed her face. In less fraught moments, Severus had wondered how his teacher had gotten through her student years as a Slytherin. Slytherins were supposed to be subtle, sophisticated - stylish even. They were not supposed to have the temper and demeanour of vicious forest-dwelling carnivores. That was for Gryffindors.  
  
"Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Snape." Severus gasped angrily, then shut his mouth when he saw the teacher's eyes flash a warning. "And five days' detention." Severus felt his expression tighten in anger as his hands curled into fists at his side. Ames turned to return to the Great Hall, then stopped and looked back at him. "I'm sure Professor Brax can find enough work for you for five evenings." Severus was taken aback. He thought he saw something approaching a smile on her lined and scarred face as she turned away again.  
  
Severus slunk off to the dungeons. _Brilliant start of term_, he thought sarcastically as he yanked open the door to Professor Brax's classroom. The tall, bear-like wizard looked up at him from the front of the room. With a great effort, Severus managed to moderate his scowl somewhat.  
  
"Well, hello, Mr. Snape. Thank you for joining us. Perhaps you'd like to take the seat next to Miss Wainwright." He pointed at the back row of work benches, at which sat three Gryffindor girls. For a moment, Severus stared down at three virtually identical smirks before slamming his books down and inelegantly flopping onto the one empty seat. From the front of the dungeon, Rosier gave him a questioning look. Severus held up five fingers. Rosier gave him an 'oh, well, could be worse' look and a small shrug before returning his attention to their teacher.  
  
As usual, Professor Brax was giving them a general introduction to the potions they'd be studying that term. Severus stopped paying attention after about five seconds. Avery always took adequate notes for that sort of thing. Instead, Severus' attention turned to Potter and his gang. The little bastard was always getting away with things. _He thinks all the teachers think he's marvellous, just because Bumblebore treats him like some kind of pet_. Then, Severus realized something. Professor Ames had given him five detentions _with Professor Brax_. A thin-lipped smile appeared on his face for a moment. She'd given him what seemed to be an onerous punishment, as his little slip of the wand had been so public, but she knew he never considered extra time in the Potions dungeon a punishment. _Ha, ha, Potter_, he thought. _Ames is on to you, you arrogant cretin_.  
  
For the next twenty minutes, Severus comforted himself with intricately constructed, increasingly deadly fantasies of revenge against James Potter. Unknown to him, the smile on his face widened as he continued to gaze, glassy-eyed, towards the front of the classroom. As his attention slowly drifted away from these indulgent reveries and back to the events going on around him, Severus heard very quiet, muffled laughter to his right. The three girls were huddled together over something. After a few seconds of glaring at them in an unsuccessful attempt to get them to shut up, Severus turned his attention back to their teacher. Brax was, as usual, boring the pants off everyone with an in-depth dissertation on the uses of sneezewort. _Did this last year_, Severus thought idly. _If people are too stupid to remember the basics over summer break, that's their problem. Get on with it._  
  
An hour later the agony of revision was over. As the bell rang, Professor Brax reminded them to bring their cauldrons to the following lesson. Severus grabbed his bag and headed for the door to wait for Rosier in the corridor. As Potter and Black passed, Severus gave them his best full-lip-curl sneer.  
  
"Nice look, Snivelly," Black said, laughing.  
  
"Well, Black, at least I'm not third choice behind four-eyed freak boy and the sickly little weed," Severus replied, pointing at Lupin. He was gratified to see Black reach for his wand and Lupin place a restraining hand on his friend's arm.  
  
"Go to hell, Snape," Pettigrew wheezed from behind Potter. Severus ignored him. As Potter opened his mouth to join in the fun, a large hand clamped onto his shoulder. Startled, Potter turned and looked up into the face of the six-foot slab named Brian Burke. Burke had a smile on his deceptively placid face. No one spoke for a second or two.  
  
"Out of the way, Potter," the Slytherin Beater finally said, in tones that would cause a stranger to mistakenly think that the Quidditch rivals were old friends.  
  
After casting sharp glares at Severus, the four Gryffindors left.  
  
"So, Snape, is your bodyguard planning on taking NEWT level Potions?" Severus turned; the three Gryffindor girls were still standing behind him, all smiling with varying degrees of malice. He didn't answer, but left with Rosier for their morning break.  
  
"Honestly, Snape, I don't believe the trouble you manage to get into, sometimes," Rosier said as he followed Severus down the corridor. "Wait up a second," Rosier continued, exasperated, as he tried to keep up with Severus' much longer strides. Severus stopped and turned quickly.  
  
"What?" he asked with a snarl. Rosier stopped and Severus was angered to see an irritated look flash over his friend's face.  
  
"You can save that for the Gryffindors," he replied in warning tones as he stopped in a patch of flickering torch-light.  
  
_Watch yourself, Rosier_, Severus thought as the two boys glared at each other for a second. Severus snorted dismissively and turned to resume his rapid strides.  
  
"Slow down, you idiot!" Rosier continued as he scrambled after his friend. With no intention of accommodating his irritated and irritating friend, Severus was halfway up the stairs before Rosier caught up to him. "You've got to learn to control your temper, Snape," Rosier said in short gasps as he puffed after the much taller boy, who was taking the steps two at a time.  
  
"I'd like to see you try it, Rosier."  
  
"You're just playing their game." Severus didn't reply as they left the staircase and turned right down a corridor. He could feel the burn of rage building in his chest as Rosier fanned the flames of his anger higher. "Reacting like that just makes you look like the fool, Snape," Rosier shouted at him as Severus flung open the door to a small courtyard where, traditionally, the older Slytherin students took their morning breaks.  
  
Severus suddenly spun around and took two long, rapid steps back to Rosier. His speed and the look of black rage on his face caused Rosier to step back quickly.  
  
"Are you recommending I capitulate to those two, let them walk all over me?" Severus finally said. He could feel his self-control slipping away and he was happy to see Rosier's look of alarm as he took two steps back and bashed the backs of his legs against a stone bench. "Shall I be a good boy, then? Sit in the corner and cry, all alone?" Severus kept coming, his expression grim. Rosier scrambled back, sitting down hard on the cold stone, in a corner of the courtyard the sun never reached. "Refuse to defend myself? Turn the other cheek?" Severus was now looming over his friend, glowering down at him. He could feel his hands curling up into fists again and, with difficulty, forced them to relax. Rosier didn't respond for a few seconds. Severus saw him take a deep breath before answering, his smooth voice in sharp contrast to his expression of alarm. For a moment, Severus regretted frightening his friend.  
  
"Of course not. I think a more reasoned response might be called for, though."  
  
Severus was startled by the mischievous smirk that arose on his friend's face. At that moment, the rest of the Slytherin fifth-years arrived. Severus glanced over and saw Avery approach, then change his mind and scurry off after Burke and Maitland Horrell.  
  
_If only I could get Potter to do that with just a look. But then, Potter isn't quite as much a coward as Avery.  
_  
"After four years of this, Snape, you're going to have to either learn to ignore them or take a more subtle approach." Rosier's tones caught Severus' attention and his head jerked back to him with a snap. Rosier didn't flinch under his stony glare, which lightened slightly as he realized what his friend was suggesting. Severus cocked an eyebrow as a tight smile crept across his thin lips and he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his robes.  
  
"What exactly did you have in mind?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Rosier's.  
  
"Mmmm, a little turnabout, perhaps." Rosier smirked up at Severus as he leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The two boys continued to stare at each other, each locked in their own thoughts.  
  
"It would have to be something ... very public," Severus said slowly, still holding Rosier's stare.  
  
"Very. Painful, too."  
  
"Very." Severus paused. "And very, very humiliating."  
  
"Of course; why go for half measures." Rosier smiled his rarely seen, feral little smile. "Perhaps something to keep Perfect Potter out of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match?" Severus smiled just as nastily back.  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"What are you two plotting?"  
  
Severus snapped his head up and turned to see Avery standing about ten feet away, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, a hesitant, questioning grin on his flabby face.  
  
"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Avery," Rosier answered acidly.  
  
"Fine, then." Avery turned and left in a huff.  
  
_What a complete prat_, Severus thought to himself.  
  
"What a complete tit," Rosier drawled. Severus chortled derisively, his eyes gleaming. Rosier caught his eye. "We'll need to work on this some more."  
  
"Definitely."  
  
Rosier stood and looked at his watch. "May as well head to Defence."  
  
The two boys shared a silent smirk as they headed back to the castle and the long trek to Professor Ames' classroom. Severus felt a warm glow at the prospect of revenge against Potter.  
  
It was time to prove who was the better man.  
  



	3. Return to the Dark Order

Chapter III: Return to the Dark Order  
  
Severus would have liked to spend the afternoon of his first day of term thinking about his conversation with Rosier. The possibility of revenge against Potter and Black was tantalizing. Over the years, he'd often fantasized about gaining some redress against the four-eyed prat and his moronic companions. However, he hadn't before thought it worth risking expulsion to do so. But Rosier had been right; the situation was becoming unbearable. If he didn't act soon, the next three years would be a nightmare of attacks and counter-attacks of escalating frequency and violence.  
  
As the day progressed, visions of deliciously painful retribution were overshadowed by growing anticipation about that evening's meeting with Lestrange. Despite Severus' best efforts, he couldn't guess the purpose of the meeting, which increased his anxiety. He didn't feel that he could discuss the matter with Rosier; it seemed like a private matter between him and Lestrange. During History of Magic that afternoon, Rosier shot him a couple of strange looks. He obviously remembered the upcoming appointment as well, and was apparently curious about it.  
  
After an afternoon in Professor Binns' classroom, the now almost comatose fifth-year Slytherins returned to their common room. While the other four boys dug out their Defence textbooks to begin Professor Ames' assignment, Severus dropped his books off in his dormitory and headed to his meeting. Rosier watched him owlishly as he headed for the staircase leading to the prefects' rooms.  
  
"What?" he snapped at his friend.  
  
"Nothing," Rosier replied as he dropped his attention back to his book.  
  
"Where are you off to?" Avery asked as Severus continued on.  
  
"Mind your own business, Avery," he replied without turning back as he entered the dark stone stairwell.  
  
Severus could feel his nerves jumping as he descended the tightly turning, closed staircase. His chest felt tight and his breath short as his mind speculated about the possible reasons for the meeting. As he headed down the corridor, he passed Veronica Flint-Gore. He ignored her icy glare as he stopped outside Keech's room and raised his hand to knock. He felt her eyes still on him and he turned to watch her staring as she waited at the bottom of the stairs to the common room.  
  
"What?" Severus said to her irritably. She drew herself up to her considerable height and glared down her equine nose at him, her green eyes filled with disdain.  
  
"Good luck," she replied slowly with a dismissive tone. He snorted in reply as he turned back to the door. Just as he was about to knock on the heavy oak, the door opened quickly, revealing Rabastan Lestrange's dark eyes looking up at him. _How does he manage to be so damned condescending looking up everyone's nostrils like that?_ he thought as Lestrange turned and walked back into the room. Severus followed and quietly closed the door behind him. Sitting near the cheery fire was the seventh-year prefect and Slytherin Quidditch captain, Christopher Keech. Lestrange sat in the opposite chair, his back to the door. The three of them were alone in the small sitting room.  
  
"Take a seat, Snape," Keech said with a faint smile, gesturing to the sofa facing the fire between the two chairs. Severus sat and looked from Keech's friendly face to Lestrange's black glare. Severus' nerves were urging him to break the uncomfortable quiet, but three years of knowing these young men curbed his tongue. Lestrange would demand precedence in this gathering. After a few more seconds, Lestrange settled further back into his chair, almost disappearing into the overstuffed cushions. He let a supercilious smile briefly cross his face as he steepled his fingers under his chin, and broke the heavy silence.  
  
"I'm sure you've guessed by now why we wanted to speak with you," Lestrange said slowly, apparently savouring his dominion.  
  
Severus carefully hid his incomprehension. _I'm supposed to be a Legilimens now?_ he thought, keeping his expression blank. He lifted the corners of his mouth very slightly and raised his eyebrows as his only reply. He knew that this was, as always, some kind of test.  
  
"I'm not going to waste our time with preliminaries, Snape. We're men of action, not debate," Lestrange continued in his patented reedy drawl. Severus repressed a snort. He stifled his instinct to glance over to Keech to see the other young man's response and perhaps garner some clue as to what this meeting was about. He forced himself to continue meeting Lestrange's eyes. "I spent some time at the Manor this summer, and Malfoy and I discussed the future of our little group," Lestrange continued. Severus nodded slightly, as if Lestrange was only confirming what he already knew. Inside, his heart was thumping loudly and he was glad of the stifling heat in the small room, which could provide an excuse for the flush he felt creeping over his pallid cheeks.  
  
"Lucius takes considerable interest, of course; he is our founder," Severus replied, inwardly proud of how steady he kept his voice. He doubted that even Lestrange's sharp ears could detect his excitement. Severus chanced a glance at Keech, who was watching him with his usual deceptive mild expression, the corners of his narrow mouth slightly turned up, his long legs stretched out over the hearth rug like a large, lazy cat basking in the heat of the fire. At that moment, he realised how much Burke modelled his behaviour and mannerisms on those of his Quidditch captain.  
  
"Yes, he is our guiding light, isn't he?" Lestrange replied. Severus turned back to face the small young man, trying to decipher his undertones. Lestrange propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and laced his delicate fingers together under his chin. "Succession planning is vital to the long-term success of any organisation."  
  
Severus' heart leapt in his chest and his head buzzed with the realisation of where the conversation was going. He hid his excitement as he replied calmly, "Of course." He kept his eyes firmly locked with Lestrange's, matching the intensity of the young man's stare.  
  
"Bella, Keech and I are leaving in June. We need to look to the future to ensure our Lord's great work is continued." Lestrange paused for a moment, briefly glancing over to Keech before again pinning Severus with his dark eyes.  
  
"Of course," Severus replied again, his mind whirling. "Hogwarts is key to our Lord's success. Identifying appropriate individuals and bringing them to our Lord's work is fundamental to his cause," Severus stuttered slightly, afraid that he was starting to babble like a first-year Hufflepuff. "Countering the indoctrination and lies of the Muggle-lovers is imperative, not just to our cause, but to the survival of our world," he finished quickly, gradually regaining his former composure. Severus felt a wave of relief wash through him as he saw Lestrange glance to Keech again, a thin smile gracing the young man's sharp features.  
  
"So, you think this is the most important work of our group?" the prefect asked quietly. Severus turned to face the him. He was beginning to feel that he was in a job interview. The nerves, the carefully chosen wording of the questions, the sense of weight accorded to every word of his responses, and the feeling that he was being very closely inspected were what he imagined a job interview would be like. Severus felt a thin rivulet of sweat slide down his back as his nervousness returned. He was accustomed to the cold of the Slytherin common room, and the combination of his anxiety and the sauna-like conditions in the small room was making him feel overheated and light headed. He shifted on Keech's sofa to face the young man.  
  
"Partly. And to serve our Lord's cause in whatever way required of us." Severus paused. "To bring others to his cause. Carefully selected people." He glanced over to Lestrange for a moment before turning back to Keech's mild, encouraging half-smile. Severus licked his thin lips nervously as he racked his brain for more to say. He didn't think that he was doing very well.  
  
"Anything else?" Lestrange asked, a hint of something Severus couldn't identify in the young man's voice.  
  
"I - " Severus began.  
  
"The identification and training of future leaders in our Lord's cause," Lestrange interrupted imperiously. Severus saw the familiar, fanatical gleam in Lestrange's deep-set eyes. "People who will lead his forces. People who will be his closest advisors, who will be his most loyal servants, promoting his noble cause wherever and however necessary."  
  
Severus forced himself to not look away from Lestrange's almost hypnotic gaze. No one said anything for a few seconds. Excitement fought with nervousness, making Severus feel short of breath. He realized he had to remain composed and fully alert if he was to successfully negotiate the conversational mine field the two young men were drawing him into.  
  
"Of course," he replied, smoothly.  
  
"So, you see the importance of who succeeds Lestrange." Keech picked up the thread of conversation from his fellow seventh-year. "When we leave," he glanced briefly from Severus to Lestrange, "almost the last direct connection to Malfoy leaves. We have to be very careful about who we choose to follow us. The group's success, especially regarding recruitment, will depend on him."  
  
"Of course," Severus replied again, not wanting to say anything that might jeopardize his position, but mentally berating himself; he was starting to sound like an idiot, saying 'of course' over and over again.  
  
"We've been impressed with you, Snape," Keech continued, his smile widening a little as he spoke. "You will soon be the last person here chosen by Malfoy himself; your family's connection to the Malfoys goes back generations, but you've never abused that position, at least, not that I've ever seen. Your obvious devotion to the cause have been noted for some time." Keech paused to glance at Lestrange. Severus turned to follow the look and saw the other young man nod slightly in apparent agreement. His heart pounding, Severus turned back to Keech as the older boy continued speaking. "However, your public battles with a certain group of Gryffindors has caused some doubts ... "  
  
Severus blanched as he felt his stomach clench in anger. _If that bastard Potter costs me this, I will kill him with my bare hands_.  
  
"I understand your situation. Don't misunderstand me; I hate the twit as much as you do." Severus smiled slightly at Keech's words. "Unlike you, though, I have an acceptable way to exact some sort of revenge. I understand your frustration, but - "  
  
"This feud reflects badly on your judgement, Snape." Lestrange interrupted again. "It doesn't do to draw that kind of attention to yourself." He paused. "The reality of our situation is that, while Dumbledore is Headmaster, we must operate in secret, as you know. Anything that draws any extra attention from the staff jeopardizes all of us and our work here. Ames is already suspicious. Slytherin or not, the woman was an Auror for decades." Severus gave a small smirk as he noted the flash of repugnance as Lestrange said the word 'Auror.' The past career of their Head of House was a matter of considerable bad feeling for many Slytherins. They felt that Dumbledore had recruited her to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and head Slytherin solely because her past career provided her with exceptional spying skills, which she used against her own House. "She knows something is going on under her nose, but can't prove anything. That is because we have been _discreet_. We cannot afford any extra scrutiny. Your ridiculous battles with Potter and his gang of half-wits is beneath someone in your situation and it endangers our work here."  
  
_My situation_, Severus thought. _What exactly is my situation?_ In his mind, Severus demanded clarification. Were they going to offer him the position or not?  
  
"A true leader puts the needs of the mission above personal grudges and desires," Keech continued. Severus nodded, looking from one face to the other.  
  
"I think you understand the situation," Lestrange said as he gave Severus a smile that made the young man's face resemble a skull in the firelight. _Not entirely_, Severus thought ruefully. Lestrange stood and the others immediately followed. Severus had the feeling he should shake their hands, but resisted the impulse. Lestrange escorted him to the door and, after perfunctory good-byes, Severus left.  
  
He walked quickly to the staircase back to the common room. Halfway up, he stopped and leaned back against the cold stone wall. His mind raced, reviewing parts of the conversation as he waited for his pounding heart to return to normal. As he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his robes, he noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. "Idiot," he muttered to himself.  
  
Once his nervousness had subsided, Severus was overcome by a sense of elation. Lestrange was seriously considering choosing him as his successor, to follow in his and Malfoy's footsteps! Lestrange was considering passing over sixth years to choose him!  
  
Or was he? Much had been alluded to, but nothing had been stated outright. While in Keech's room, talking to the two older boys, Severus had been so sure that that was what they were discussing. Now his certainty evaporated. His stomach lurched sharply as he thought that maybe they'd just wanted him to suggest someone. What kind of test was this?  
  
Severus tilted his head back against the stone and groaned. He felt exhausted; the short but stressful conversation had drained him of what little energy he'd had left after a full day of lessons. As he continued up the stairs and back to his dormitory, he carefully weighed the possible meanings of the conversation.  
  
That evening, while his dorm-mates sat in the common room doing homework, he lay on his bed replaying the conversation in his head, carefully examining and analysing looks, tones, implications, and possible concealed meanings. The only conclusion he could come to was that Lestrange and Keech were seriously considering him for the position.  
  
Half-formed schemes flew across the surface of his mind as he imagined himself leading their group. After leaving Hogwarts, what door would be closed to him? He would be able to take his rightful place in the world, his place by right of talent, intellect and power. He would not be limited to the pitiful role that his father's place in wizarding society would consign him to. He gave a contented sigh as he imagined himself at the side of the Dark Lord's most powerful supporters, not as a dependent, not as a servant, but as an equal.  
  
It was not until the next morning that Severus remembered Lestrange and Keech's words regarding Potter.  
  
- -  
  
During the following week, Rosier approached Severus a number of times regarding revenge plotting. Each time, Severus brushed him off, using a variety of excuses. After the fifth rebuff, Rosier gave him a very strange look, as they left their Ancient Runes lesson. But Lestrange and Keech's words were at the back of Severus' mind at all times, and they worried him.  
  
In truth, Severus was terribly conflicted. His two greatest desires were now in direct opposition. He felt he might finally be able to get revenge against Potter after four years of torment. However, Lestrange had implied that this could very well cost him the opportunity to succeed the seventh year as the leader of the Dark Order group that Malfoy had founded at Hogwarts five years before.  
  
Severus had no illusions about his opportunities after Hogwarts if his situation didn't change before then: decades of underappreciated, efficient obscurity, just like his father. Like his father, and other Snapes before him, Severus would be expected to be grateful for the "honour" of clinging to the cloak-hem of a Malfoy for the rest of his life. Gaining the prize of succeeding Lestrange could break this pattern of dependence. He desperately wanted something other than to follow in the footsteps of generations of Snapes before him. He wanted a future where he was a leader, not just some potions-making flunky, one of the many functionaries working in the shadow and under the thumb of a Malfoy.  
  
Lestrange had tantalized him with the possibility of that other future, and Severus had no intention of jeopardizing it. But about Potter .... Rosier had been right. That situation had to be resolved, for once and for all. His pride and justice itself demanded some sort of revenge for years of stupid pranks and unprovoked attacks. And it wasn't as though they were ever punished, he thought to himself as he sat in History of Magic the following Monday afternoon, idly playing Hangman with Burke at the back of the classroom. He smirked as Burke drew round glasses on the stick figure drawn in the corner of his otherwise empty parchment. McGonagall's inaction regarding Potter and Black had always been strange. She was so strict with everyone else. And Dumbledore was worse; the old man couldn't have been more indulgent if Potter had been his own son.  
  
This, as much as anything else, enraged Severus. The unfairness of it had eaten away at him for years. All he wanted was justice. And if the staff weren't going to punish the errant Gryffindors, he was morally obligated to show them the error of their ways, wasn't he?  
  
That evening, Severus was hidden away in the back of the library, working on a Defence assignment, when Rosier finally cornered him. To Severus' annoyance, Avery was with him.  
  
"There you are," Rosier said as he dropped his satchel on top of a pile of books. Severus looked up at his two classmates with a scowl on his face.  
  
"You've been avoiding us, Snape," Avery continued as he sat in the only other chair.  
  
"Why are you here, Avery?" Severus asked angrily.  
  
"Rosier told me about the plan. It's brilliant ... "  
  
"There is no plan, Avery," he interrupted, casting an angry glare up at Rosier, who looked smug.  
  
"And who's to blame for that?" Rosier replied as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
"I'm busy, Rosier," Severus growled as he turned his attention back to his parchment.  
  
"What's the matter with you? A week ago you were all for this. Now you're backing out," Rosier said, perplexed.  
  
"I've changed ... I'm busy. I don't have time for this right now." Severus felt his face flush at the obvious lie. "And I cannot believe you told him," he continued, gesturing irritably at Avery with his quill.  
  
"Hey! I want to see those two get some of their own medicine, too."  
  
"Really," Severus drawled in response to his classmate's huffy tones. "And how many times have you been attacked in the corridors, Avery?"  
  
"We _all_ want to see them get their comeuppance, Snape. What made you change your mind?" Rosier asked.  
  
Severus looked up and saw a hard look on Rosier's face. He knew his friend suspected that his stalling was related to his meeting with Lestrange. "I haven't changed my mind. I just ..."  
  
"Well, then. Let's get planning," Avery interrupted a little too loudly. A moment later, Madam Pince poked her head around a nearby stack and shushed them, a scowl on her face.  
  
"Let's go back to the common room," Rosier suggested as he picked up his satchel.  
  
Severus sighed and closed his book. "No. I don't want anyone _else_ knowing about this."  
  
"You've got to be joking. You know everyone'll want to help," Avery replied, barely able to keep his voice down.  
  
Severus silently glanced between Rosier and Avery a few times before replying, keeping his voice low. "No one else can know about this."  
  
"Burke'll want to - " Avery protested.  
  
Severus shot him a quelling glare. "Not even Burke. No one. Have you said anything to him?" he asked Avery.  
  
"No, not a word. I just found out today. Rosier didn't want to tell me."  
  
"But he did." _Thank you, Rosier, you prat. Tell the second worst gossip in Slytherin, why don't you._ Rosier had the good sense to look somewhat chastised. With a heavy sigh, Severus leaned back in the hard library chair and crossed his arms. He feigned an interest in the moldy history books on a nearby shelf as he pondered the merits of various ways out of his current situation. The idea of revenge was so tempting. And if there was a way that no one would suspect them, not even other Slytherins, well then ....  
  
Rosier put his satchel on the floor and left, returning a few moments later with another chair. He sat and quietly waited with Avery for Severus to speak again.  
  
Severus looked from Rosier's smirk to Avery's anxious excitement and, knowing he would probably regret his decision later, spoke. "First of all, no one can know about this." He heard Avery deflate slightly in relief.  
  
"What do - " Avery sputtered, then stopped as Rosier raised his left hand to silence him.  
  
"Whatever we do cannot, under any circumstances, be traced back to us by anyone," Severus continued.  
  
"Why not? You'd be a hero, finally getting back - " Avery countered, perplexed.  
  
"Because we don't want to be expelled, you idiot," Rosier snapped. Avery's face fell. Severus noticed the calculating gleam in Rosier's eyes; he knew his friend's mind was whirling through the possible reasons for the secrecy, even within their own house.  
  
"None of the Slytherins would tell," Avery replied, sulking.  
  
"We don't know that, Avery. Do you trust Horrell not to go to Ames or Dumbledore?" Severus asked acerbically. "If any staff find out, it goes straight to Dumbledore and we're all out on our ear. You may not need qualifications, but I do, and I have no desire to spend three years at Durmstrang." A look of petulant anger crossed Avery's face, which irritated Severus even more. _Spoiled brat._ For a moment, he contemplated the perils of including Avery in any enterprise requiring discretion.  
  
"Okay, fine." Rosier clapped his hands once and rubbed them together for a few seconds, apparently happy that they were finally making a start.  
  
_You'd think this was about his revenge_, Severus thought to himself ruefully as he watched a gleeful grin take over his friend's expression. However, the sight of it leavened his heavy doubts for a moment.  
  
"It's agreed then. Absolute secrecy is our first priority," Rosier continued, ignoring the scowl Severus knew was on his face. He picked at a hangnail idly, waiting for Rosier to try to take over the proceedings. "Well, the way I see it, we really only have three choices: hexes, potions, or some kind of accident, perhaps during a lesson."  
  
"Potions are out of the question," Severus replied sharply as he thought to himself, _Why in Merlin's name has Rosier put so much thought into this?_  
  
"Why? You're brilliant at potions, Snape. I bet you'd come up with something even Brax couldn't trace."  
  
The gushing made Severus feel slightly nauseated, but he couldn't help feeling gratified by the praise, even coming from a complete dunderhead like Avery. He smirked at both of them before answering sarcastically. "Use your head, Avery. Imagine the scene: Potter is sick, obviously by some fiendishly-contrived potion. It can't be the work of a staff member, can it? Of course not! They all love the bastard, don't they? It must be a student. Now, who are the few students able to brew such a thing? And of them, which is Potter's enemy of long standing?" He cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Avery sighed dejectedly. "I see what you mean."  
  
"That leaves us with some kind of hex, probably; an accident is too hard to set up, especially in a classroom. The teachers are too security-conscious," Rosier said as he leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, causing the sleeves of his robes to billow out from his bent elbows like black wings. The boys were silent, each mulling over various hexes and jinxes. "The problem is secrecy, of course," Rosier continued. "I mean, we want it to be public, for the embarrassment value, but we have to be able to do it so no one sees it's us."  
  
"We'll still be suspected," Severus replied dryly. "Ideally we would not actually be present. That would give us a stronger alibi. A time-delayed or event-triggered hex or jinx, perhaps."  
  
"Hmm. That's really advanced Charms work, you know. Event triggered hexes and that sort of thing," Avery said.  
  
"I know, I know," Rosier replied, then pursed his lips in an expression of extreme concentration. Severus thought it made him look like an acne-plagued, constipated vole. Rosier glanced back at him, his expression shifting to become blank. Severus could tell his friend was angry about something. "It really is a pity you don't want anyone else to know about this. Lestrange or Bellatrix Black would know how to do this. They'd teach us how if they knew what it was for."  
  
Severus put all his resolve into keeping his expression as neutral as possible. _Quit fishing, Rosier_, he thought angrily. His friend's curiosity about his meeting with Lestrange had been getting on his nerves all week. He knew the mention of the seventh-year was a deliberate attempt to get a reaction; Lestrange was no better at Charms than anyone else. He gave Rosier a tight, humourless smile. "I think the fewer people involved, the better. Imagine Potter's glee at clearing out half of Slytherin House if we were found out. We certainly wouldn't make any friends getting others expelled." _Ha, so there, Rosier_. Severus knew that playing on Rosier's greatest weakness, his desire to ingratiate himself with the more prominent Slytherins, would get his friend to finally shut up about the whole Lestrange situation.  
  
"Who says we'll get caught?" Avery asked. Severus turned to him, barely able to restrain his impatience with the boy's inability to think even one step ahead without someone giving him a map.  
  
"Because what we're planning will require considerable skill, likely the application of dark magic of some kind, flawless execution and, unfortunately, quite a bit of luck." He paused. "There is another problem. Potter is never alone. Black is always by his side and will notice anything suspicious. If anything happens to Potter, I will automatically be suspected and Dumbledore will not bother with niceties like evidence when pursuing anyone who dares to disturb his precious Perfect Potter." Severus spat out the last words. "The prank itself is secondary to the execution. We _must not_ be caught." He saw Rosier give him a thoughtful look before replying.  
  
"When were you thinking of doing this?"  
  
"We discussed before something to keep him out of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match," Severus replied, dropping his voice to just above a whisper. He was happy to see the familiar devilish twinkle return to Rosier's eyes at the mention of their previous conversation.  
  
"November, then," Avery whispered.  
  
"Halloween at the latest," Rosier countered thoughtfully. "To have the plan at least. We'll probably need some time to actually execute it."  
  
"Or Potter." Avery grinned, looking from Rosier's impassive face to Severus' scowl. His grin evaporated.  
  
"Really, Avery. Do you intend on spending the rest of your life in Azkaban? I certainly do not, so rule number two is _no permanent damage of any kind_." Severus paused and glanced back to Rosier. "Incapacity, excruciating pain, and socially debilitating public humiliation are all desirable, of course," he smirked, "but not absolutely essential." Rosier chuckled and Avery guffawed loudly, earning another shushing from Madam Pince.  
  
"So, what now?" Rosier asked as he glared at the back of the departing librarian.  
  
"Research," Severus replied and stifled Avery's groan with a fierce glare. "I think our best bet is some kind of event triggered or time-delayed hex or jinx." The other boys nodded in agreement. "We know quite a few hexes. It's a matter of knowing how to make them active after they're cast. So, that's what we focus on."  
  
"Do you have something specific in mind?" Rosier asked.  
  
"I have two or three suitable candidates."  
  
"You do realise that what we'll need is going to be in the Restricted Section?" Rosier stated dryly.  
  
"I know. We'll need ..." Severus' voice drifted off as his attention was drawn by an idea that popped into his mind. "Just ... I have an idea. I'll tell Brax I want to do some advanced research for OWLs. He won't suspect anything."  
  
"Good thinking," Rosier replied with a smirk that Severus soon matched. Rosier glanced at his watch. "Almost nine o'clock. Time to get back." He stood and picked up his satchel.  
  
"Not a word to anyone," Severus said in warning tones to Avery. "Not anyone - no hints, no thinly veiled allusions, no knowing nudges in the Great Hall, nothing."  
  
"Okay, okay," Avery replied. Severus didn't care that Avery was insulted by the implication that it would be him that let slip their secret. He was still very angry with Rosier for telling Avery, of all people.  
  
As the three boys made their way to the Slytherin common room, Severus discovered that he felt better than he had in days. The tightness constricting his chest for the past week had loosened a little. The more he thought about their plan, the more confident he became that, with some luck, they might just pull it off. He might just get both his dreams to come true.  
  



	4. Unexpected Escapes

Chapter IV: Unexpected escapes

At the end of the second week of term, Severus went to see Professor Brax. As he had predicted, the genial teacher provided him with a note to Madam Pince which would allow him to have access to the Restricted Section of the library.

Whenever he found the time, Severus would be in the library, researching. Because his pass did not include Rosier and Avery, he had to carry tottering piles of obscure Charms texts back to their dormitory in order to divide the burden of research.

By early October, Severus was becoming anxious about their lack of progress. This exasperation was an unwelcome addition to the more mundane frustrations of his life at Hogwarts: having to endure the sporadic attentions of Potter and Black, the resulting detentions, the malaise of Astronomy and History of Magic, the fruitlessness of Dark Order meetings, the tedious cut-and-thrust of Slytherin common room politics, the avalanche of homework, and the ever more dire warnings from their teachers regarding their impending OWL exams.

The second Saturday in October, Severus arose much later than usual and went down to breakfast alone. As he entered the Great Hall, he noticed Rosier sitting with Lestrange, Keech, and a few other members of their Dark Order group. Judging by his friend's rapt expression, Severus guessed that the discussion was political. _Too early in the morning for politics_, he thought muzzily as he sat by a group of third year boys excitedly discussing the following weekend's Hogsmeade visit. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a slice of toast from a plate in front of him. Shortly after, he heard Rosier's voice behind him.

"How's Alfwyn's _Deflection of Flight_?" his friend asked, referring to the huge, crumbling tome Severus had been reading until three o'clock in the morning.

"Marvellous," he replied sarcastically. "I have so much free time to spend on this."

"What are you working on?" Rosier asked, looking around furtively to see if anyone was close enough to overhear them.

"Hurling hexes. They're quite complicated. More than I thought they would be, actually." Severus rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was exhausted and the headache he'd had since the previous afternoon was worsening by the minute. _How in Merlin's name am I ever going to catch up with my homework?_

"So, you're focusing on a Quidditch accident?" Rosier asked, leaning over, an intent look on his face. "I thought you said no permanent damage."

Severus snorted dismissively. "He'll be fine, Rosier. Even if he doesn't manage to hang onto his broom, Dumbledore won't let his precious little darling be injured." He paused as he leaned back against the long table. "Just think of the embarrassment: Potter, self-proclaimed Quidditch god, crashing around the pitch on an uncontrollable broom while the entire school watches. The only problem is that making the hex time-delayed is a very complex process." Rosier's expression became very solemn. "By my calculation we'd need his broom in our hands for at least an hour, and that's if we've already mastered the hex."

"Potter keeps his broom in his dormitory," Rosier said, his voice leaden.

"I know. All the House players do," Severus replied as a resigned grimace crossed his face.

The two boys were silent for a minute, surrounded by the hubbub of late risers eating breakfast. For the fifth or sixth time, Severus contemplated the risk versus reward of bringing Burke into their plan. Burke would have no qualms about helping take Potter out of the upcoming match. What gave Severus pause was Burke's probable reaction to the plan's secrecy. He would want to tell Keech, but this was out of the question.

"Our first priority has to be finding a way to get to Potter's broom," Rosier said with a sigh.

"Unless I can come up with an easier alternative that gives us the same results." Severus stood up to leave.

"Transfiguration essay?" Rosier asked.

Severus answered with a sneer. "Bloody McGonagall. I swear, that woman lives to torture Slytherins."

Rosier laughed.

- -

One week later, Severus was sitting at a long table in the Slytherin common room, almost hidden behind a tower of textbooks.

"Come on, Snape," Rosier wheedled.

Severus looked up from his Arithmancy homework. "I don't have time, Rosier." He scowled at the devilish grin on his friend's face.

"Come on, Snape," Rosier repeated. "All work and no play make Snape an even more boring bastard than usual."

Severus snorted in reply. "Sod off, Rosier," he shot back, but with less venom than he'd intended.

"Come on, you know you want to go."

"Rosier, I have too much to do," Severus countered. "That research put me behind in everything."

Rosier gave a frustrated grunt and flopped into a nearby chair. For a few minutes he glumly watched his friend struggle with massive columns of numbers, symbols and calculations before he stood again. "Fine then; I'll go with Burke and Clarice."

"They left already," Severus replied, not taking his eyes from his parchment.

"Damn." Rosier paused for a moment, weighing his options.

"You could always go with Avery. But he's still in bed, I think," Horrell said as he walked by with his sister, a third-year off on her first trip to Hogsmeade. Severus snorted again in amusement.

"Thanks a lot, Snape. Now my choices are to go alone or wait for Avery to drag his lazy arse out of bed some time this afternoon."

Severus sighed and rolled up his parchment. "Oh, very well, then. I suppose I can spare a few hours." He smirked at his friend.

"Thank you very much. I'm much obliged, I'm sure," Rosier replied sarcastically.

Twenty minutes later, the two boys passed through the school's huge iron gates. The day was glorious - a perfect Scottish autumn day: clear, cerulean skies, a slight nip in the air, and the sharp tang of the Forbidden Forest carried across the grounds on a light breeze. Severus noticed four students a ways ahead of them, or two couples as they appeared to be. He recognised the slim red haired girl as Lily Evans and the tall girl with shoulder-length dark brown plaits as Nina Bottle. The two boys were both blond, the taller one walking shoulder to shoulder with Bottle. The shorter one had his left arm around Evans' waist. Severus assumed that this was Bottle's twin brother Andrew, the Ravenclaw prefect. He'd noticed him studying with Evans in the library. The taller boy leaned over to the other couple and said something that made all three of his companions laugh out loud. As the boy turned to the side, Severus saw that he was David Dryden, son of the Minister for Magic.

"Hmm, always thought Bottle played for the other team, if you know what I mean," Rosier said with a sly grin.

"What?" He wondered for a moment what Rosier was talking about; then he saw the boy's archly raised eyebrows. "Oh." He sniggered unpleasantly. "Which one?"

"Both, probably; her, definitely," Rosier replied as his smirk widened. The four students ahead of them burst out in laughter again.

"I don't know. The brother and Evans look cozy."

"Probably a cover. They're probably couples, all right, just not that ... arrangement," Rosier said as he waggled a finger back and forth, pointing at the four ahead of them.

Severus topped and stared down at his friend. "Why this sudden interest in the personal lives of Ravenclaws?"

"What do you mean?"

He noted Rosier's sudden discomfort. Aha, he's got a little crush, has he? "What could possibly be the source of this fascination?"

"Shut up, Snape."

Sniggering at Rosier's angry scowl, Severus followed as his friend stomped off down the path.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the High Street of Hogsmeade and entered Scrivenshaft's, the stationers. Severus made his way over to the barrels overflowing with different types and grades of parchment, budgeting in his mind for the rest of the term. As he contemplated his purchase, he heard the shop's bell, followed by a less pleasant sound: James Potter and Remus Lupin jabbering away. Severus sidled behind a haphazardly-piled stack of ledgers at the end of the counter and watched the two boys amble over to the shelves piled with ink bottles. A few seconds later, he peeked around a bookshelf and saw Potter make a beeline for the back of the shop, where Lily Evans was looking over a display of quills.

"Hey, Evans," Potter said as he approached the redhead.

"Hey, yourself, Potter."

Severus smiled at the obvious disinterest in the girl's voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin and Nina Bottle pointedly ignoring each other over the ink display. _Glad to see the Gryffindors getting along as well as ever._

"Ready to go?" Rosier asked from behind him. Severus jumped in surprise and turned around. "We should probably get out of here. Black could arrive any time."

"In a minute." Severus did some quick mental calculations, then chose four thick rolls of parchment.

"Like I'd _ever _go out with you, Potter."

Severus snapped his head around. Evans was walking away from a puzzled and unhappy-looking James Potter. After a second or two, Potter noticed him watching. Severus was pleased to see the bane of his existence flush a bright pink and scowl back. _What? No scathing rejoinder? Not so brave with only the weedy little git to hold your hand, eh, Potter?_ He turned back to the counter and saw the Bottle twins in front of him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed indignantly. The two interlopers turned and stared at him levelly, both almost exactly Severus' height, and presented him with two flinty glares, one blue and one hazel.

"You snooze, you lose, Snape," the brother said in the flat foreign monotone that always set Severus' teeth on edge in Arithmancy and Transfiguration. The sister cocked an eyebrow and smirked. They both turned and paid for their purchases, leaving Severus fuming at their backs and contemplating hexing them where they stood.

A moment later, Evans and Dryden rejoined their companions. Bottle put his arm around Evans' waist in a proprietary way and looked over her shoulder to the back of the shop. Severus was pleased to see him give a small condescending smile to Potter as the four friends walked out the door. A minute later, he and Rosier followed them into the bright sunshine.

As the boys turned up the street, they watched the two couples ahead of them.

"Beautiful girl. Clever, too. Pity she's a Mudblood," Rosier said as if he were appraising the merits of a fine racing broom.

Severus paused for a moment before replying. "I can only assume you're referring to Evans. Unless, of course, you've developed an appreciation for trolls." He looked down at his friend. "I never would have suspected your tastes ran in that direction, Rosier," he continued, teasing.

"Shut up, Snape. Of course I'm talking about Evans." Rosier shuddered slightly.

As they proceeded up the High Street toward Honeydukes, Severus saw Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew step out of Zonko's Joke Shop. Before the two Gryffindors could see them, he grabbed Rosier's arm and dragged him into the doorway of Gladrags Wizard Wear, causing a stout witch and her two children to scurry out of their way with angry looks.

"What?" Rosier demanded, startled.

Severus pulled out his wand. "Black and Pettigrew." Rosier looked around the doorway, then down at the wand in his friend's hand.

"Get caught doing magic out of school - "

"Don't be such an old woman, Rosier," Severus snapped back with an irritated scowl. His companion watched with an amused expression as he glanced quickly around the corner of the doorway. "No one's watching. They're heading the other way." He leaned around the doorway and as he flourished his wand at Black's back said, "_Prurigo_." Then, he turned his attention to Pettigrew and said, "_Offensio_." He watched just long enough to see Pettigrew fall flat on his face in the mud and Black contorting himself in an effort to address his new total body itch. He leaned back into the doorway, satisfied with a job well done. He turned a twisted grin in Rosier's direction; his friend gave him a bemused look as they stepped back out into the street. 

The two boys saw that Potter and Lupin had joined their stricken friends. Though it appeared that one of them had cast the counter spell to the Omni Itch Jinx, Black was still idly scratching his chest as if he were chasing fleas. Severus pulled Rosier into the next lane before the other boys saw them, and proceeded to Honeydukes by the back way. Halfway there, they ran into Burke and his girlfriend, Clarice Whicker, another Slytherin fifth-year.

After their visit to Honeydukes, the four Slytherins split up. Severus wanted to stop in at Quill and Quire, a second-hand book shop to look for back issues of _The Alchemist's Annual_. The other three Slytherins went on to the Hogsmeade branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies so that Burke could purchase new gloves.

Twenty minutes later, Severus was on his way to the Quidditch shop to meet up with his classmates. In the alley behind the Post Office, he again heard the sound he didn't want to hear, particularly now that he was alone. His heart sank and he groaned quietly as he turned to see Potter and his cronies coming out of the back door of the Post Office.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Snivellus, out all alone," Potter drawled as he slowly dropped from one step to another. "I hear you've been busy today." Potter glanced over to Black, who was taking up a position on the other side of the alley. Severus' heart rate accelerated rapidly on seeing the slightly manic grin on Black's face. He took two steps back.

"Going somewhere, Snivelly?" Black growled behind him. Severus ignored him and continued to glare back at Potter, who was casually leaning against the railing at the bottom of the steps. Behind Potter was Lupin, looking as if nothing of interest was going on, and Pettigrew, who looked as though he was watching a highly amusing show being put on just for his benefit. Despite his rising panic and his anger at Rosier for convincing him to come to Hogsmeade and then abandoning him, Severus managed to keep his composure as he watched Potter raise his wand. Though he couldn't see him, he imagined Black had done the same. There was no way he could take them both; he'd have to turn his back to one of them to hex the other. Potter opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.

Following Potter's gaze, Severus turned and saw the Bottle twins standing about twenty feet away. Like a pair of bookends, each was leaning against a side of the narrow alley, arms identically crossed across their chests, identical expressionless, level gazes directed at Black and Potter. Severus noticed that each had their wands in their hands, tucked harmlessly under an arm, but in full view. _Wonderful_, he thought sourly, _five on one. This gets better by the minute_.

"Three on one. Hardly fitting for a great sportsman like you, Potter," the sister said quietly.

"Hey! Four, not three," Pettigrew protested. The others ignored him as the glares exchanged between Bottle and Potter threatened to melt the cobblestones beneath their feet.

"Piss off, Bottle," Black growled.

"Standing up for Slytherins now, Nina?" Potter snarled at his team-mate. He pointed his wand at Severus. "He's already jinxed Sirius and Peter today. "

Severus began to slowly edge away from Potter, keeping an eye on the Gryffindor's wand, which didn't waver as Potter kept it levelled at his chest. _Five more feet over and I have the angle to take them both_.

"Yeah, and that justifies this," Bottle replied, casually waving her wand over the scene in front of her, then tucking her hand back under her arm. She turned to Black. "You want to take him on one-on-one, I have no problem; I couldn't care less if the two of you kill each other. But this," the girl gestured with a casual flick of her wrist, "is not on." Severus watched the girl turn her attention back to Potter. "So you can bloody well back off." As angered as Severus was by having to be rescued by a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw, he was amused by the open hostility between Bottle and her house-mates. He was about to tell the two of them to bugger off and mind their own business, when the brother turned to Potter.

"And Potter, if you _ever_ pester Lily again, you _will_ regret it."  
_  
Perfect_, Severus thought to himself gleefully as both Potter and Black's attention was now taken by the interfering siblings. He relaxed as he felt the tension in the air shift. As Potter and Andrew Bottle began to bicker over Evans, and Black and the sister continued to eye each other with menace, Severus slowly sidled down the lane away from them. At one point, he saw Lupin glance at him. He froze, waiting for the prefect to alert his friends that their quarry was escaping. As soon as he realised that Lupin wasn't going to do or say anything, Severus kept backing away slowly and slipped into a narrow passageway between two shops. Muttering under his breath, cursing all nosy Gryffindors and their equally meddlesome brothers, Severus disappeared into the High Street crowds.

After exhausting the entertainment potential of the busy Quidditch shop, the four Slytherins made their way back to Hogwarts without incident. Walking with Rosier, Severus quietly told his friend about the run-in with Potter's gang and his unexpected escape.

"I don't believe it!" Rosier exclaimed angrily. Over the next ten minutes, Severus was amused by his friend's display of the more colourful aspect of his vocabulary, speculating on various methods of inflicting slow, creative torture on certain Gryffindors. As they approached the school gates, Rosier stopped and looked up at him, squinting slightly in the sharp late-afternoon sunlight. "You know, Snape, for all our sakes, you'd better come up with something good to take care of those bastards."

Severus grinned malevolently. "I'll see what I can do."

- -

The next day, Severus was sitting with Rosier and Horrell in the common room, working on his Charms homework. Burke arrived with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team from their early morning practice. Grumbling, the tall boy dropped into the chair across from Horrell's and tossed his broomstick onto the low table between them. Severus was roused from his contemplation of Silencing Charms by the rattle of ash on oak.

"Problem?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"Bloody broom," Burke replied. "The steering's gone all wonky." The boy grimaced. "Of course, it had to happen today. If it'd happened Tuesday, I could have gotten it fixed in Hogsmeade yesterday."

"Use your old broom," Tristan Raeburn, one of the Slytherin Chasers, yelled in exasperated tones across the common room. "We've only got one match before the next Hogsmeade Day."

"Right. Gryffindor," Burke called back over his shoulder. Severus was surprised by Burke's irritation; he was usually so easy-going. "I need my best broom, Raeburn, if we want any chance of holding their Chasers back."

Severus saw that Raeburn had noticed the slur on his talents. _Not without cause_. "What's wrong with your other broom? It seemed perfectly adequate last year," he asked Burke.

"You can keep that monstrous nose of yours out of it, Snape," Raeburn called from his chair by the fire. "Just because you try out for the team every year doesn't give you the right to comment on it."

Severus' angry reply was cut off by Burke, who ignored his team-mate. "Potter and Bottle both have new 1500's this year, as well. The old Cleansweep just doesn't have the speed to keep up."

"Can't you get it fixed?" Horrell asked.

"I can't get to Hogsmeade until December."

"Can't you fix it yourself?" Severus asked, ignoring Raeburn's melodramatic sigh.

"I could try, I suppose." Burke scratched his chin. "There's some broom repair books in the library. But if I bollix it up, my dad'd kill me. I've only had it four months and it's a damned costly broom."

While the other boys debated the possibility of fixing Burke's Nimbus 1500, Severus turned back to his Charms textbook. As his forebrain researched potential variants of Silencing Charms, unbeknownst to him, his hindbrain had latched onto Burke's news. Consequently, as he lay in bed later that evening, just as he was drifting off to sleep, an image popped into his consciousness. His sleepy eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright.

"Damn!" he hissed to himself excitedly, grabbing onto the thought before it slipped away. "Brilliant," he whispered to the green velvet curtains surrounding him. His eyes glazed over as his mind replayed the scenario. He examined the sequence of events carefully. _It could work_, he thought to himself. _I can make it work_. Severus sighed contentedly as he leaned back onto his pillows.

The plan was set.


	5. The best laid plans of snakes and men

Chapter V: The best laid plans of snakes and men

"It'll never work," Rosier said grimly.

Severus turned to Avery. The other boy was chewing his lower lip nervously, avoiding Severus' eyes. Wonderful. Even Avery thinks it's bound to fail. He paused. _When did I start caring what Avery thinks about anything?_ He gave a half-grunt, turned his back to his classmates and folded his arms across his chest with a scowl. He was angry, and even the spectacular view to the west across the lake, the setting sun tingeing the water a rippling gold, could not lift his mood.

"Perhaps you'd care to elaborate?" Severus responded, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm.

"It's too complicated," Rosier replied. "And I don't fancy trying to break into Gryffindor Tower to switch the brooms back."

"There's no need to. After Potter falls, there will be complete chaos on the pitch. It will be easy to switch them back then." _This is getting ridiculous_, Severus thought. It was really very straightforward, if only Rosier would get his head out of his arse and see.

"I'm still not ... how exactly is it going to work?" Avery asked, hesitating on seeing his classmate's expression.

"I will try to explain it again, Avery. This time in words of one syllable." Severus paused. "We take Burke's broom. The one he is not going to use," he continued, giving Rosier a pointed look. "We apply the hexes. We switch it with Potter's broom before the match. Potter flies the hexed broom. Potter falls. Potter is embarrassed in front of the entire school and, if we are lucky, injured in some marginally life-threatening manner. We switch the brooms back. We are not caught. And no one ever knows it was us."

"Well, I don't see how it'll work if Burke isn't involved. I mean, what if he ends up using the hexed broom. We could end up killing our best player. Keech'd kill you," Avery replied shrilly.

Severus rolled his eyes and replied in exasperated tones. "Burke won't have the hexed broom; Potter will."

"What about that, then? Burke's broom isn't working properly. Potter'll notice his broom is wonky all of a sudden. That's why Burke isn't flying it in the first place." Rosier scowled.

"We fix it ourselves."

"You must be joking, Snape." Avery laughed. "What do any of us know about fixing brooms?"

"It will not have to be perfect," Severus replied through gritted teeth, but in his heart he knew Avery was right. _Damn it!_

"And it's not like they're exactly the same," Avery muttered to himself. He flinched at the murderous glare he received in reply.

"What exactly do you mean, Avery?" Severus asked in the silky tones his friends knew were the warning sign of an impending Snape blow-up.

"Well, um," Avery glanced to Rosier, seeking assistance. "They're the same model, but they won't be exactly the same. I mean, they'll look a little different - different damage, nicks on the handle, that sort of thing."

Severus turned away again, scowling. "You're assuming Potter has the intelligence to notice."

Rosier joined in, keeping his voice neutral to prevent his friend's temper from reaching critical mass. "Snape, remember, this is Potter we're talking about. He probably sleeps with the bloody thing." He paused. "And what about Burke? He'll notice the broom he has isn't his."

An impatient sigh escaped Severus' lips. "Burke won't even consider flying it. He thinks the steering is defective, remember? It won't ever leave his trunk."

Rosier shifted on his boulder, wincing. "It's a good idea, Snape. Really, it is, but I don't see it working. Potter is bound to notice the switch."

"Thank you for your approbation, Rosier." Severus paused, suppressing a small disappointed snort before continuing sarcastically, "You have no idea how much your words of comfort mean to me."

"Sod off, Snape."

Severus turned and gave his friend a twisted smirk, which Rosier answered with one of his own. _Bastard_.

The three of them were silent as they watched the sun slip behind the Forbidden Forest. Avery absent-mindedly pulled at loose threads at the end of his sleeve and Rosier drew circular patterns in the dirt with his feet. Severus felt his chest tightening as he thought about the hours he'd put into research and planning, the nights he'd gotten almost no sleep in order to keep up with his homework, and the OWL revision he hadn't begun, all for a plan that was, apparently, unworkable._ I can't believe we're going to just let this go. I know I can make this work. It's a brilliant idea._

"What nights do Gryffindor practice?" Avery asked suddenly.

Severus turned. "What?"

"What nights do Gryffindor have Quidditch practice?"

"Why?" Rosier asked.

Severus thought for a moment. "I know they split Tuesday evenings with Slytherin, but other than that ...." He shrugged. Had Burke ever mentioned the other teams' practice schedules? "It's not the same every week. Why?"

Avery glanced from one companion to the other, obviously trying to not look smug. "It's all in the timing, really, isn't it?"

"Stop trying to be subtle, Avery; it's completely beyond you. What are you talking about?" Rosier demanded impatiently.

Avery narrowed his eyes at Rosier for a moment before continuing. "We switch the brooms after the last Gryffindor practice before the match. The less time Potter has the broom, the less likely he is to notice it isn't his, especially if he doesn't actually use it again until the match." Avery leaned back against a large boulder, looking very content. The other two exchanged a glance. 

Severus felt his heart skip a beat and the tension squeezing his chest loosen a little. _You're not free of me yet, Potter._

- -

Severus didn't want to raise Burke's suspicion by asking him about the Gryffindor practice schedule. After Potter's "accident," Burke would likely remember his curiosity and realise that he was somehow involved. From Burke, this information would go first to Keech, then to Lestrange, then good-bye Dark Order promotion.   
So, for the next few days, the three conspirators kept watch for any Quidditch activity from the Gryffindors, to no avail. Toward the end of the week, Severus was getting desperate. While Rosier and Avery pored over books on broom charms, he took to prowling the corridors near Gryffindor Tower in the evenings, trying to catch sight of Potter or his team-mates heading off for practice. Unfortunately, the only result of his spying was more frequent run-ins with Potter and Black, with the usual consequent detentions. After his third night in a row polishing armour under Filch's scowling supervision, Severus was beginning to wonder if it was all worth the effort.

Then, just as he was beginning to lose hope, what Severus needed literally fell into his lap. The Tuesday before Halloween was unseasonably mild; the three Slytherins took their morning break in the large courtyard facing the greenhouses. They discussed alternative strategies for discovering the Gryffindors' schedule. Then, as Severus was outlining the expansion of their reconnaissance efforts, a small sheet of parchment drifted onto his lap from above.

"What the - ," he grunted as he picked up the sheet.

"What is it?" Rosier asked.

Avery looked up. "Looks like Dryden dropped something out the library window."

Rosier followed his glance. The boys heard laughter and exasperated complaints from above as a hand was quickly withdrawn and the window slammed shut.

Severus stared, dumbstruck, at the parchment. Rosier looked back down at the sheet in his friend's hand.

"What is it?"

_I don't believe it._

"Snape!"

Severus' head jerked up. "What?"

Rosier snorted. "What's so fascinating?" He took the parchment and gave Severus a sardonic look before glancing at it. Then he looked again, his eyes widening in surprise. Rosier handed it back, laughing out loud.

"What is it?" Avery asked.

"The Gryffindor practice schedule," Severus replied quietly. He felt a warm wash of relief and excitement as the weight of worry he'd carried for days evaporated.

"Quick, copy it down," Rosier said excitedly, pulling writing materials out of his bag. As Severus scribbled out the schedule for the next three weeks, Avery kept an eye out for the parchment's owner.

Less than a minute later, Avery gave a warning. "Someone's coming."

Rosier got his ink and quill and the copy in his satchel just as Nina Bottle dashed around the corner, laughing over her shoulder, with Dryden in pursuit. When Dryden saw the three Slytherins, he froze. Seeing her friend stop, Bottle turned and saw Severus holding her schedule. She ambled over, her laughter quickly transforming into an imperious expression. She held out her hand. "Give it here, Snape."

"Give what where, Bottle?" he replied smoothly, not bothering to hide the document.

Without warning, she lunged forward and snatched the sheet out of Severus' hand. Despite himself, he flinched. She flourished the parchment, a smirk on her face.

"The difference between a Chaser and a loser, Snape. It's all in the hands."

"Piss off, Bottle," Severus spat.

The girl minced away in mock horror. "Ooo, so scared! Slytherus swore at me!" She draped an arm over Dryden's shoulder and pretended to swoon. "Help me, help me!" she cried out in feigned terror, the back of a hand pressed to her forehead.

Severus felt his face twist into an angry grimace as Dryden burst out laughing. As they strolled away, Bottle muttered over her shoulder, "Moron."

"Once I'm done with Potter, you're next, you repulsive cow," Severus whispered.

- -

That evening, when Burke was at Quidditch practice, Severus, Rosier and Avery were sitting on Avery's bed. Burke's damaged broom lay between them on the rumpled coverlet. Dozens of sheets of parchment, Severus' notes on time-delaying hexes and Rosier's on broom repair, lay scattered around them on the bed. A few of the crumpled, smudged sheets had fallen to the floor.

"You can't just do a Hurling Hex, Snape. Use your imagination," Avery said, teasing.

"I have no intention of doing so, Avery. And don't _ever _question my imagination again." Severus turned to Rosier, who was examining the broom closely. He continued in lecturing tones. "I think some more _personal_ effects will complement the Hurling Hex nicely."

Rosier looked up at him. "What do you mean, personal?"

"_Genitalibus roboribus_. A common enough hex, I suppose." Severus frowned at Avery's puerile snigger. "But embarrassing enough to suit our purposes, especially in front of a crowd."_ Especially in front of Evans_. "In combination with _Strumis pudendis_, it should have sufficiently painful effects for our purposes. Potter certainly won't be sitting a broom for a while." He paused as he glanced between Rosier and Avery's blank stares. "Scrofulous tumours. Pus-filled scrofulous tumours." Avery snorted and Rosier grinned. "In a location which makes it unlikely he'll seek Madam Pomfrey's ministrations." Avery blushed a blotchy pink and Rosier laughed so forcefully he almost fell off the bed. Severus allowed himself a momentary glow of self-satisfaction. It really was a brilliant choice, if he didn't say so himself. If Potter tried to cure it himself, he'd only end up worsening his condition. The curse's symptoms were similar to those caused by a handful of more common curses, all of whose counter-curses intensified the effects of _Strumis pudendis_. "They'll take weeks to disappear on their own and will eventually spread over the entire body." He paused. "To the best of my knowledge, there is only one book in the Hogwarts library which contains the counter-curse, and it currently resides there." He pointed at the pile of books on his bedside table.

- -

Ten days later, after dinner, Severus and Rosier left the castle by way of one of the hidden entrances to the Slytherin dungeons. Less than an hour later they returned, Potter's broom hidden under Severus' cloak. _Too easy_, he thought as they re-entered their common room. It had been so simple: hide in the Slytherin change rooms until the Gryffindors returned from practice, wait in the corridor until they were all in the showers, sneak in, and make the switch. Rosier had stood look-out while Severus had done the deed; it had taken less than ten seconds to make the switch. _Serves the idiots right for not having any protections on their change rooms._

"Now we wait for the fun to begin," Rosier said.

- -

The day of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match dawned clear and bright. At breakfast in the Great Hall, Severus listened to the ragged wind randomly batter the panes of the soaring windows. Most of the surrounding Slytherins were engrossed in Raeburn's angry attempts to convince Burke to fly his faster, damaged broom. The longer the argument went on, the paler Rosier became, but Severus knew that Burke wouldn't change his mind.

_Thank you, Raeburn, you brainless twit_. The more vehemently the sixth-year quarrelled with Burke, the less likely it was that the Beater would change his mind. Of all the elements of chance that had come into play with the plan, Raeburn's unknowing assistance was the most satisfying to Severus. He anticipated that this would be the first of many victories over his fellow Dark Order member. He looked forward to a year of lording it over the pretentious blowhard after Lestrange passed over Raeburn to chose Severus as his successor.

As the morning progressed and the time of the match drew nearer, Severus became less able to contain his agitated anticipation. An hour before the match, Severus' eagerness had reached fever pitch. For once, he couldn't concentrate on his Potions homework, and his restlessness drove him out of the dungeons and into the upper school. He wandered, unseeing, through the corridors as his mind flashed from one scenario of Potter's destruction to another. _How would it happen? A bludger? A crash with another broom? Perhaps with Bottle?_ Severus grinned evilly at the thought. _Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak_. In each mental mini-drama, he saw Potter fall, flailing, tumbling out of the sky, seemingly forever. The conclusion of each scenario shot a warm dart of contentment straight into the pit of his stomach.

Forty minutes later, Severus joined Rosier and Avery in the Slytherin stands. Rosier twitched aside his cloak for a moment to show Potter's broom, in case the opportunity arose to switch the brooms back at the end of the match. A sinister smile played over Severus' thin lips for a few seconds as he glanced at the chanting, flag-waving silver and green-bedecked students surrounding them. As he sat between his friends, Severus allowed himself to be enveloped by the almost overwhelming physical assault of the noise, the vibration of hundreds of feet stamping the old wooden stands, and the palpable sport-induced blood-lust in the air.  
Then, all thoughts were swept away by a roar from the surrounding crowd as the Slytherin team arrived on the pitch. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Avery open his mouth to say something, then think better of it as a second roar erupted from the other three sides of the pitch, as seven flashes of red and gold rose up to take their positions opposite the Slytherins.

The stadium quieted as hundreds of spectators strained forward, waiting for Madam Hooch to release the Quaffle. In that moment, Severus looked over to the Gryffindor Chasers. Jones gave a short glance to Bottle on her right, then Potter on her left, sending them off to form up. He didn't envy the Gryffindor captain, caught between the Scylla and Charybdis of Potter and Bottle's monumental egos.

On his left, Severus could feel Avery quivering in anticipation. As he turned to deliver a withering rebuke, the crowd cried out in full voice as the Quaffle rose and the match began.

The Slytherin stands quieted as the Gryffindor Chasers took possession. Jones drew a Slytherin Beater with her to the far side of the pitch, then a quick backhand pass to Potter, a quick flick ahead to Bottle, a neat fake to Jones, then the Quaffle was past Keech for the first goal of the match. Severus cringed as Bottle enacted her traditional first goal of the match celebration, a piercing, ululating shout, both fists in the air in triumph. The Slytherin spectators groaned as Jones intercepted Keech's pass to Raeburn and the slaughter began in earnest.

Over the next hour, Severus watched with mounting anxiety as the match proceeded. As Potter's broom remained distressingly obedient regardless of its rider's diving, looping, turning and rolling, Severus' frustration and worry mounted. _What the hell is going on? _A glance at Rosier revealed that his friend's thoughts were working in the same direction.

The match was turning into a disaster for the overmatched Slytherins, especially the Chasers. Potter feasted on sloppy Slytherin passes. Jones seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, able to anticipate the opposing Chasers' every move. Bottle's ferocity with the Quaffle ensured Keech was the busiest player on the pitch. Burke's unerring bat was the only thing prolonging the match, as he single-handedly kept the Gryffindor Seeker from the Snitch. Despite Keech's best efforts, the goals kept piling up against the Slytherins. And still, Potter kept flying. Occasionally, he appeared to struggle with his broom, but he always managed to get back on course. Severus could feel his right hand twitching, unconsciously straining for his wand as he contemplated risking more direct action.

"Bloody hell!"

Severus was jolted out of his thoughts by Avery's shout, immediately followed by an enraged clamour roaring through the Slytherin stands. "What? What?" he demanded loudly, looking around the pitch, glancing around the spectators in front of them, who had leapt to their feet. He glimpsed Madam Hooch, Lestrange and Keech flying quickly towards Raeburn, who was hunched over his broom, his hands over his face. Severus saw the Gryffindor Chasers clustering near the centre of the pitch, just in front of the Slytherin stands. The shouting of the crowd was deafening. "What happened?" he yelled at the back of Rosier's head. Rosier turned. By his friend's shocked expression, Severus knew that something extraordinary had happened.

"I don't believe it!" Rosier yelled back. "She just fired it at the back of his head!"

"What!" Severus was getting angry at the lack of information.

"Bottle shot the Quaffle straight at the back of Raeburn's head!" Avery shouted over his shoulder.

"What?" Severus shouted back at Rosier, shocked, though a snide voice in the back of his mind said, 'Good girl.' He glanced down at the pitch, where Raeburn was being attended to by Madam Pomfrey while Madam Hooch conferred with Keech and Jones. Even at that distance, Severus could see the blood covering the boy's face and hands. "What happened to Raeburn's face? I thought she hit him in the back of the head?" he asked no one in general.

"His face smacked into his broom," Avery answered.

_Bloody hell, is right.  
_  
"Hope Hooch throws her out," Avery continued as the noise around them began to die down.

As Severus watched, a very angry-looking Keech returned to the Slytherin goalposts. Madam Hooch, accompanied by Jones, flew over to where Bottle, Potter and the two Gryffindor Beaters were still hovering. Severus couldn't hear the discussion between the teacher and Bottle, but the girl was giving the half-shrug of the universal 'Who, me?' gesture. Two minutes later, an exasperated-looking Madam Hooch sped away, blowing her whistle for a Slytherin penalty shot. Realising that this was the only punishment coming for Raeburn's broken and bloody face, the Slytherin crowd erupted into enraged shouts and catcalls.

"What the hell?" Avery bellowed, his face the colour of the Gryffindor team robes. Severus and Rosier were two of the few Slytherins not on their feet protesting the lenient call. Avery was screaming himself hoarse, practically having a tantrum. Rosier looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow in amusement. Severus peered between two fourth years and saw Potter and Bottle hovering just in front of the Slytherin stands, their backs to the crowd, making a good show of ignoring the screams for her blood. _Stupid cow_.

As Severus watched, Bottle leaned over to Potter to yell something in his ear. The two Gryffindors then slowly twisted their heads around to face the Slytherin crowd, which responded by redoubling their shouts. Bottle and Potter exchanged amused glances. Potter turned his attention back to the pitch, to watch Madam Hooch hand the Quaffle to Lestrange for the penalty. A malevolent grin spread across the girl's face as she turned back to watch Lestrange's shot batted away by the Gryffindor Keeper. The Slytherin crowd groaned and slowly retook their seats as the match resumed. Across the pitch, the stands shook with the cheers and gleeful stomping of the Gryffindors as they chanted their Keeper's name.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Rosier's tight grimace as the Gryffindor Chasers took possession of the Quaffle and formed up to attack the Slytherin goals. Just then, their view of the pitch was obscured again as most of the Slytherins around them jumped to their feet.

"Carey's seen it!" Avery shouted gleefully as he bounced on his toes to see over the students in front of him. Severus stood and followed the crowd's gaze. Both Seekers were on the trail of the Snitch. He saw a brief flash of gold as it darted past the Slytherin stands, twenty feet above their heads. A smirk crossed his face as Burke expertly smashed a Bludger at the Gryffindor Seeker, forcing him to dodge away, allowing Carey to bear down on his target unchallenged as it raced towards the Gryffindor goals. Severus watched, a small pool of still quiet in a sea of screaming Slytherins, as Carey veered sharply, almost ploughing into Lestrange, who scrambled to get out of his way. Like the rest of the crowd, Severus ignored the Chasers and the action at the respective goals as the two Seekers dove, twisted and looped after the darting golden ball. Then, just as Carey rolled to avoid a Bludger, the Snitch veered straight into the Gryffindor Seeker's path. The match was over. Gryffindor 280-Slytherin 50.

Five minutes later, Severus, Rosier and Avery trudged back to the castle, surrounded by bitterly disappointed Slytherins loudly debating various plans of revenge against Bottle.

_Why didn't it work?_ Severus thought as he stood on the front steps of the castle, waiting for the crowd in front of them to clear. _Those hexes were perfectly cast._ He glanced over to Rosier.

"What happened?" Rosier mouthed, unable or unwilling to shout over the crowd. 

"Later," he replied. As the crowd moved into the Great Hall for lunch, the enclosed space of the castle seemed to amplify the excited post-match chatter going on around them. Avery seemed to have entirely forgotten about the hexed broom, engrossed as he was with two sixth-years in a vituperative denunciation of Bottle.

After half an hour of listlessly pushing a pile of uneaten shepherd's pie around his plate, Severus left with Rosier for their dormitory. In a daze, he sat on his bed while Rosier paced.

"What are we going to do?"

Severus shrugged. "Wait until Tuesday and switch the brooms back. Remove the curses. Put it back in Burke's trunk. Pretend none of this happened."

"What if Potter notices before then?"

Neither boy spoke as they contemplated the possible consequences.

Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.


End file.
